"This is noplace!" It was true, it was a

"This is noplace!" It was true, it was a boring, uninteresting place to be. "This is no place man, let's get out of here before someone sees us!"

There was no one. No one living at least. This was soon to be a horrid truth that they would come face to face with in a few minutes. It was the smell that hit them first.

A lovely, tantalizing smell that arose from the corpses that reminded their seriously malnourished stomachs of hickory ham and smoked bacon. They gazed at the horrifically taboo

site of human flesh carved and piled up on golden platters. They were tempted to taste - just a little bit. Dom took a small roasted ear and chewed at it's crispy, chewy lobe. His

thoughts turned to the time he got lost in Ikea and had to survive a week on Swedish horse-meat-balls before he was found. Dom felt a tear run down his cheek as he swallowed

the bits (also somberly) just to make sure they were real. Dom mounted Black Beauty & leaning over, whispered, "I could never make meatballs out of you." But somehow, Don still had

thoughts of braised horse steak, mustang chops, gelding kebabs and other savories swirling about in his mind. He decided to just ride past the slaughterhouse, just this once, what

ever dreams of horsemeat may float through his mind, he would resist! But then a lone feeble horse cantered from the slaughterhouse, looking as if

Zeus himself had returned to earth. He couldn't let it happen again. His need for horsemeat spurred him to rebel against the abattoir! The klaxon sang as horses escaped to freedom.